The Hunger Game: Primrose's Experience
by skiaholic
Summary: Twelve year old Primrose is no longer a girl, and is forced to watch the fate of her sister through the Hunger Games. Through District Twelves misery, Prim will discover new friends, new enemies, and a new Primrose Everdeen.


"My name is Primrose Emily Everdeen. I am twelve years old. I live in District Twelve with my mother and…"

The words were there in my head, but my mouth refused to acknowledge what has just happened. I opened my eyes realizing my incantations were futile, just to see the departing train carrying away the hosts of the hunger games and the tributes from district twelve.

Everybody waves at the departing train. A few women are crying. I see boys turn and wander aimlessly away, every face is masked in woebegone and misery.

The train has left yet a few still remain around my side. Only a wall of peacekeepers stand before me and the tracks that have carried away my sister, Katniss Everdeen. I close my eyes again, eyelids now pushing tears from my eyes, as I try to use the very tactic Katniss has taught me.

"My name is Primrose Emily Everdeen. I am twelve years old. I live in…" no, not again. "I have a goat named Clover. I will provide for my family." Yes, the thought of my job in the future seemed to keep the terrors of the past free from my head. Now this time when I opened my eyes, it was just me, alone, standing before the wall of peacekeepers who stood guard over the tracks that carried away my sister, Katniss Everdeen.

I turned and began my way through the streets; the dirty and disease-ridden streets that so many sought refuge in. The old sometimes lay in the streets, rotting in the sun, maybe hoping somebody would come and take them to a better place. Animals lived by the streets, catching and eating the vermin that meander between the houses. And yet the streets provide for the kids, it's where we play hopscotch, throw jacks, and hide only for others to seek us out for enjoyment. I was born on the streets, the thick black coal dust gave a soft satisfying crunch under my feet, and now I return to the streets for refuge.

"Come on Prim!" a small voice followed by a few laughs calls from behind. "I've got a new doll, were gonna play House now!" House sounded good right now. The very idea of playing a game of fantasy, escapement from this cruel world was exactly what I needed. But today, the cruel world has taken root in my life, so I keep making my way down the dusty road. The voices of my friends and laughs of childhood grow fainter behind me.

The smell of fresh bread fills my mind. The savory scent provides a small haven in the darkness of my mind as I indulge in the momentary beauty of odor. But a woman's screams and sobs disrupt my sudden pleasure as condolence again punishes me. The beautiful smells, as well as the sounds of horror, were coming from the Mellark family bakery.

But I keep on walking. My feet ache. I can feel the dirt and grit accumulate in the creases of my face. But this road that I thought that I knew from birth is taking me to new places. There are no more people now, and, in fact, I haven't seen a person for over an hour. Occasionally an old structure will stand beside the road, all of which are abandoned. But just when I thought that the road goes on forever, perhaps even to district thirteen, the end appears.

A single building stands paramount. Massive and regal looking, it may even be the largest building in all of district twelve! White pillars stand before floor to ceiling windows. I stand before it all, at the base of the steps that lead to a fainted hickory door that had more knots, twists, and turns in it than I can count. Every sensible part of my body screamed to run away as fast as I can, yet it only took one notion to keep me standing in awe before the building.

Just as I am about to take a step towards the house, there comes a sound in the distance. At first faint, but slowly growing, I see an object rapidly approach.

It takes some time for it to arrive, but eventually an old automobile comes to a standstill before the house as well, hissing as it stops. Some ten feet away from me, a white suit wearing the notorious black helmet of the peacekeepers emerge from the vehicle. The figure removes his helmet to reveal the face of a man probably as old as the vehicle he drove. The look on his face punctures deep in my heart.

His face is sad, but it is unlike the horror I saw on everyone else's face at the reaping. I see the face of this man, and it's as if I am looking into a mirror at myself, just an older and male rendition of myself. He brushes a greasy silver lock back from his face and over his thinning scalp and walks towards the door. Heavy keys jangle from his pocket as he tries several combinations and locks, and finally opens the door to the mansion. Turning to me and without saying a word, he motions with his hand for me to follow. And strangely I do.

If outside was beautiful, then I don't have the words to describe the inner décor of the building. Hardwood seemed to be the prominent building supply, and being so it cast a very dark and cold atmosphere about, but perhaps that could also be due to the setting sun outside.

I see not the strange peacekeeper who let me into the house, but a single illuminated light down the hall gives me an idea where he could be.

My soft shoes let me move soundlessly about the slippery wooden floors as I round a corner into a large room. The room appeared to be a library, no, a study with a single wall made completely of books. Mostly thick books, hundreds of age old editions of mindless matter, all of which seemed to regard the government of panem.

A soft pouring sound behind me redirected my attention from the books to the mysterious man who let me into the house. He sat behind a desk in a red velvet chair so huge I could've mistaken it for an upright bed. The man poured a burgundy color liquid from a vast crystal into two smaller crystals. Taking one glass, he drank it all in a single fluid motion while flinging his head back, then he pushed the other glass across the table towards myself.

I just stood there in the confusion of the situation.

Without receiving a desirable notion from me, the peacekeeper sighed as he leaned back into his chair, then raised a black box towards me.

I immediately ducked by instinct. I've seen personally what the inventions of the capitol do. They shoot people, they electrocute, and gas the innocent people of district twelve, but no bang of a gun, zap from a taser, or hiss from gas was emitted from this black box. Instead as he pressed a button, a television screen behind me was illuminated and he controlled what the television held by the buttons on the box.

He stopped on a channel that had Katniss's face on it. In fact, every channel he went to was featuring Katniss and Peeta. Two obnoxious and hideous people from the capitol seemed to be the stars of the show, yet they held nothing but harsh words towards Katniss. But I didn't mind, Katniss was probably hundreds of miles away by now, yet I had her right in from of me through the television. I held out my hand, like I did at the reaping when Katniss volunteered for tribute. I remember screaming and reaching for her while able-bodied peacekeepers held me back. But now I had Katniss as I've always wanted before me, yet when I touched her…. Nothing.

A sharp sound made me yelp and flash out of my trance set by the television. The peacekeeper stood up from his seat obviously unscathed by the sudden noise unlike me, as if it were a common occurrence. He left the room and rounded the corner towards the door. I peeped out of the room to see a dark shadow outside of one of the windows that stood next to the door. And then he opened the door.

"Prim? What are you doing here?"

The man stood there holding two turkeys by their dead feet.

"Gail?" I say back.


End file.
